


Once More, With Feelings

by daggerisms



Series: TNBC Homin [5]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 14:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12559468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggerisms/pseuds/daggerisms
Summary: The meanest, baddest bad in the land is given the opportunity to go out into the field and take in some fresh fear...and a few other surprises. Another tale embedded in the TVXQ Nightmare Before Christmas alternate universe.





	Once More, With Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know...I have a spin-off thing to write. It's being written. But this turned round and round in my head, and after a conversation with someone I consider to be a god among us fanfiction writers, I decided to explore it, and it became something I didn't intend, but fell in love with anyway. Consider this my long time coming Halloween gift to you!

It has been a while. Such a long time since the first Boogeyman has gone out into the field; the other workers take care of the scaring and spooking of souls while he handles the more boring side of “the business” on his own. Let them do the dirty work, and take the credit for its success. After all, his shadow creations come from his power source. But from time to time, he misses it—the thrill of travel, scouting locations, the rush of making a child scream.

Business is booming, but Gao Yi Xiang grows restless quite easily.

When the opportunity to make a return presents itself, Yi Xiang snatches it up. Seconds after receiving the news that one of his top scarers is out of commission (“Dear oh dear, syphilis is such a downer,” he mutters as the embers from the letter flutter to the ground) he is off.

To the closet, where he chooses his battle outfit: black leather pants, his favorite black and purple slashed tunic, heeled boots to make the most gothic sick with envy, and a leather duster that brushes the cold hard ground. Deceiving to the eye, it is no mere coat—once he dons it, the darkness eats him up as he travels, only to spit out whatever his unsuspecting victims fear most.

Then to the stool set in front of an ornate steel vanity, where his fingers blur as they pick up brushes and pots and lines to transform his pointed face. Arch the cheekbones. Darken the brows. Oh, how he missed this utterly simple but satisfying routine. He will teach whoever he finds what is the true meaning of terror…but why look like death itself doing so?

Unless he were to go for that look—and he would be the hottest piece of death around.

Already dark hair now jet black and closer resembling a moonless night, black kohl around the eyes to emphasize their brightness—he does love the sinister lime green for a mission—and a half-dozen rings glittering on his fingers, Yi Xiang slides down the stair banister, shouting at his startled staff, “Terribly sorry, _dreadfully_ sorry, but I must be off. Don’t bother to keep dinner warm. I’ll nip in early tomorrow morning! Ta!”

He steals out the door, a deep laugh growing in his lungs. The trees still, the wind dies, and the world holds its breath…for the true harbinger of nightmares is out to play once more.

 

* * *

 

Yi Xiang chooses the homes with what could be mistaken as tenderness.

But he is no tender creature—not by a mile, not by the distance between two planets.

At this time, North America happens to be the unlucky place full of dreamers. The first house is a sprawling ranch out in the quiet hill country of Texas; nestled between two hills, a few lights remain on, glowing with warmth, and the horses have not settled down in the stables, but the wing of the ranch house that draws him in is dark.

The husband sleeps soundly in a spread eagle position, soft snores rising from his chest and drool steadily trickling down his bearded face. His wife remains downstairs, enjoying some much needed alone time with a novel.

Had he not neglected shuttering for the night, perhaps Yi Xiang would have not tasted such the sweet perspiration of a nightmare on him. He quickly senses that the man holds a very common fear in adults. The Boogeyman levels his stare out the crack of the closet door. His eyes glow bright and then dim to pinpricks as tendrils of darkness creep up his body. They form a bowler hat and shroud his form until he resembles a grossly thin being.

_Yes…the tall man in the hat…_

With one finger, he pushes the door open, delighted in the loud creak that wakes the man up—not enough to be aware of his surroundings, but enough to pull him out of a deep sleep. One eye peeps open and finds the skulking shadow slipping into his room.

His jaw gapes. But he makes no noise. The man opens his mouth again and again, but finds silence each time. Yi Xiang bites back a laugh at such a ridiculous expression. Yes, he truly missed going out into the field. Drawing closer inch by inch, he watches as the terrified man tries to move on the bed and cannot.

Sleep paralysis.

Easy to replicate, utterly terrifying.

Yi Xiang trails his fingers on the snow white quilt, and distorts his own face until there are only beady eyes staring down at the choking rancher. He leans down…down…

And rips off the spell that muted the human.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Glass shattering. “Baby?!” a woman’s voice yells from downstairs. Footsteps follow the outcry up the stairs, and she bursts through the door, her hand hitting the light switch immediately. She hurries over to her husband’s side as he gasps for breath. “Baby, what is it?! Did you have a nightmare? Talk to me!” But he only shakes his head, still gawking at the spot where the shadow man stood not a second ago.

Perched on the chimney, Yi Xiang holds his middle as he howls with laughter. Too long, much too long. But he sobers quickly; that felt too much like amateur hour. Scaring those who suffer from sleep paralysis proves far too easy. No…no, he will have to do better the second time…

A teenager. Lingering childhood fears, and some of the best screams to consume. _That is my next stop._

 

* * *

 

Yi Xiang finds the perfect prey huddled under a tacky canopy of sheer gauze and fairy lights in cold Maine. He nearly retches upon arrival. The scene looks straight out of an IKEA magazine, with all the sleek modern furniture and funny-sounding names in manuals still littering one corner. She slumbers like the most disgusting Disney princess too, hands perfectly folded under her head and plump pink lips slightly turned upwards.

_Ugh. Barf-o-rama._

What will her uptight mother say if she catches the adult-looking man in her sixteen-year-old’s bedroom? He mentally amuses himself with swears and curses darling mother might utter as he examines the room with disinterest and mild repulsion. What, oh what is this floundering child afraid of?

As always, his feet carry him to the walk-in closet stuffed with clothes, clothes, clothes, and countless shoes. There are some CDs covered in dust, and he picks up a signed copy of his favorite Nightwish album. _Her only saving grace is her taste in music—no, wait. I spy One Direction. What a letdown._ He tosses it aside and continues to look for…well, anything interesting.

Closet yielding no results, Yi Xiang goes back out into her room, frowning. _What the fuck drew me to her, then? I caught her powerful scent much faster than the fat bastard from earlier._

The thought barely crosses his mind before he lays eyes on it. The improvements to her room must be new, for this black trash bag does not go with the décor. Two steps, and he’s crouched beside it, peering inside. For one small moment, he contemplates whether they will be enough.

“Perfect,” he hisses, and lets his coat do the work.

It is quiet. It is still. The teenage girl turns onto her side, and something in her dreams causes her to awaken. She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes and hoping it’s actually morning. 2:36 AM blazes from the clock on the wall. With a groan she falls onto her pillows, reaching for another pillow to snuggle while she attempts to go back to sleep.

Thud.

Her eyes fly open. “Chloe?” she whispers uncertainly. Her cat can be so active at night…

But Chloe sits above her head, her amber eyes fixated on the floor, tail bushy in anger—or fright.

Thud. Swoosh.

Giggling.

Instinct tells her not to look. Hell, logic does, too. But curiosity is a serious enabler, and so she turns over in bed again, to glance at the floor. Everything is as it should be—except for the now open trash bag sitting flat on her floor.

A trash bag that should be misshapen.

“You’re dreaming,” she tells herself in a squeak. “You are asleep, you’ve been asleep, this is obviously a nightmare…” Curious, curious, she had to look. “And you are going to wake up…” She leans over the edge of her bed, catching herself on the mattress to keep from falling. “Any…” Her hair tumbles to the carpet. “Second…” Her fingers wrap under her bed frame. “Now.”

Beneath her queen-sized bed lie her old porcelain dolls. Unmoving. Dusty. Dressed in frills and ruffles and tights, custom made long ago. She loved them growing up, but ever since one fell from atop her dresser, she stored them away. And tomorrow she will finally be rid of them.

For a long, unending minute she stares uneasily at them until relief and embarrassment at herself course through her. “Stupid things,” she quips. “I guess I let my imagination get to me, huh Chloe?”

One of the dolls winks at her.

The screams are enough to wake the whole household and the neighbors on either side of the apartment. But by the time her mother and sister can get into her bedroom, the dolls are back in the bag, still covered in dust and still unable to move their eyelids. Above their heads, a magical man laughing fit to burst congratulates himself on a job well done.

He is ambitious, though. A teenager with a childish fear contributes a massive amount of energy to the shadow realm—his beloved hideaway—but he craves more. Of course he craves more. He is the original, the first of his kind, only the faint memory of pyramids and a scorching sun lingering from his time of creation. Such mediocrity will still not do.

Children. The fears of children were the absolute best to be sought after. Their fears were tangible and very, very real to them. He has to catch the scent of a child—and fast; the witching hour means any energy he pulled out would be that much more potent.

 

* * *

 

Darkness greets him in a small alcove off a stairway. The house stands as silent as a crypt. It is warm and humid, almost sticky inside, and chaos everywhere, as if no one has cleaned in some time. Yi Xiang slinks away from the wall, tasting the air. Two souls, one definitely a child. Downstairs, he glances at the adult in the house, lounging with his feet propped up on the dirty coffee table, flicking through the channels. Yi Xiang can’t remember the last time he saw so many beer bottles; perhaps at a gathering with the prince and his king?

Outside a window on the landing, he sees palm trees and sand stretching to a black ocean. Beach. Humidity dominates Hawaii…and he is confirmed by the cheap plastic leis as decorations hanging from hooks in the hallway.

A door off to the left calls to him. _Maritza_ is branded into a wooden plaque beside it.

He inhales and becomes shadow itself; gliding across the dusty floor like a fine mist, the Boogeyman seeps beneath the door into the little girl’s bedroom and makes his way to the only dark corner available. The room is that of a normal little girl’s; toys scattered everywhere, the bed covers a dreamy pink with frilly pillows. The room is oddly neat, and it also hasn’t been cleaned recently, but with the man’s general mess downstairs, it is unsurprising. Reforming again, he stoops to closer examine some of the belongings—

–and immediately stops his observation when he realizes he is being watched.

The girl named Maritza gazes at him from under her bed with calm eyes, completely unafraid. Brown curls frame a tanned, freckled face; eyes of cornflower blue survey him as he surveys her, taking in the flamboyant outfit, the glitter…his atmosphere.

_Quiet as a mouse. I wonder…_ he inhales imperceptibly. _Knock, knock, little girl. The boogeyman is here. Tell me, show me: what is it you fear?_

“Are you an angel?” she quietly asks him, interrupting his flow of thought. Her voice is soft but strong, and her expression is devoid of fear. She gazes at him in interest and childlike wonder, though, and it confounds him.

Yi Xiang cocks his head to the side. “That’s a new one. But no, I am not.”

“You look like an angel. You have wings. They look weird, though. Like looking through a veil.”

Still frowning, he looks over his shoulder and sees nothing visible. _But certain people can look past my glamour and catch a glimpse of…no, but she is a child…_

Her small form scoots closer to the edge of the darkness, but she continues to lie there. Her small hands cross her tiny chest, and now she appears to be thoughtful in the way only an innocent can. “You have wings. I see them. You can’t tell me you don’t have them. They’re just weird.”

“Are you…it is a silly question to ask, but do I scare you?”

“No.” Truth. A calmness beyond her years. _So peculiar._ “I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of anything.”

“Hiding under a bed is a brave thing to do, then?” Yi Xiang asks in amusement. “Come out from under there, Maritza. It must be so dirty and dusty.”

“How do you know my name?” she asks, suspicion creeping into her voice.

“I know a lot, and I will explain if you come out from under your bed.” He sniffs again. _Why am I not picking up on a fear? There is something special about this house, or I would not have come. Yet I taste nothing. Not even a hint. Come on, fright, show yourself._

“I don’t…um…” She struggles for words, and at that moment, a strangled yell comes from downstairs. Maritza flinches and draws closer into herself. _Ah._ “That wasn’t fear,” she pouts at him. “It just made me jump, but my papa…he doesn’t…”

Yi Xiang approaches her with caution, battling an unknown emotion that begins to swirl within him; the other one has a name, but he will get there eventually. He crouches next to the bed and puts his face as close to hers as she will allow. “Tell me, Maritza. Are you afraid of your father?” _Something drew me here. And no matter what I stumbled upon, I will see it through to conclusion._ “I am not an angel, but I can be a good friend to have if someone is hurting you.”

She vehemently shakes her heads, but her lips begin to tremble. “No…I mean…he’s my papa…”

“Sometimes the people we love and trust most have an unusual way of hurting us. That is, even our parents can be scary now and then.” He reaches his hand toward her, but she moves back. “I will not hurt you. I’m not like your father—Jacin, is it? Jacin, your father, is the scary one. I’m not, not right now.”

“That’s not it, he’s not scary!” she argues, but then they fall silent as footsteps thud up the stairs. Yi Xiang holds his breath; he is not in the proper mindset to create a glamour, but if the king finds out he interfered with this—

A heavy hand gently knocks on the door. “Mari? Mari, it’s Papa.” The doorknob turns, and Yi Xiang reaches down within his soul, preparing for a fight, ready to slaughter this man if he so much as lays a hand on this little girl that makes him _feel…_ but the knob goes back into place, and the door remains shut. “Just coming to…to wish you good night, sweet little angel.” Something else makes a dull sound on the wood—his head?—before there are retreating footfalls. Quiet once more.

When he is sure no one else is about to burst through the door, Yi Xiang peeks down at Maritza once more—and scolds himself for not noticing.

_Get your vision checked, Yi Xiang. The king would be disappointed._

With real gentleness, he holds his hand out again, letting the smile come to his face naturally. “Would you like to fly, little one?” Her eyes pop and she stares down at his open palm, reluctant. “Remember what I said before. I will not hurt you. I want to share the night sky with you, if you would like to see it.” Pause. Another breath. “Mari?”

“Yes, please.” Her tiny little hand is icy cold to the touch as Yi Xiang’s fingers fold around it. As he gently pulls her out from under the bed, he recognizes what he initially failed to see—a strange, nearly invisible glow emits from her being. She shakes ever so slightly, but she grins nonetheless and holds her arms up to him. “Does flying hurt? I…” She hesitates. “I hurt before. I don’t want to hurt again.”

“You will feel nothing but the air on your face.”

“We don’t…have to drive there, do we?” She half-buries her face into his side. Finally, his fear senses come back, but he knows why and it saddens him. “Cars scare me.”

“No car, I promise.”

His hands scoop her up and Maritza wraps her arms around his neck. He starts to gather his best flying form when her voice pipes up again. “Wait, but…what about my daddy? I don’t want to leave him. He gets lonely, and I don’t want to leave him all alone.”

And the original Boogeyman—the being who strikes fear in the most wicked hearts, the shadow on the moon at night, the formidable warrior who makes nightmares themselves stop in their tracks—pokes her cherub cheek and assures her, “Your father will never be alone. He will always, always have his sweet little angel, right?” He stole a glance to the door. “And one day, all three of you will be together…flying.”

This perks Maritza up right away. “Mama too?”

“Your mother, too.” His finger gently touches the tip of her nose. “I think she would be happy to know you are brave enough to fly.” She briefly tucks her head under his chin, and he closes his eyes, just for a moment. “You have the word of this knight, little Mari, that I will do what I can to make sure you see your mama and papa again.”

Maritza’s dimples deepen as she pulls back to look at him. “You’re a knight? I knew you were a good guy!” Her curls whip around her head as she turns to the window. “Let’s go, let’s go! I can’t wait to see the sky!”

_And I will show you only the brightest stars, sweet girl._

 

* * *

 

His tread is slow, and his footsteps are heavy as Yi Xiang leaves Guillotine Square behind him and trudges through the gates to his manor. To no surprise, the Nightmare King leans casually in the archway of the entrance, a crooked grin making him look all the more attractive. “Greetings, your Majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The king says nothing, only continues to smile at his most trusted knight.

“Very well. I get the silent treatment. As you know, Halloween is two weeks away, so forgive me for leaving if there was a meeting tonight, but I simply took the opportunity to do a scaring mission—”

“Did you see her home safe?” King Yunho interrupts him, still with that knowing grin.

Yi Xiang gazes at him for a second before trying to push past him. “You know…”

“That is, indeed, my name.”

“…I am quite tired from all the traveling I’ve done tonight, sire, and I should get some rest before rejoining you in All Hallows Eve planning tomorrow. If you will excuse me.”

Yunho flings out an arm and catches Yi Xiang, his smile turning into a more sympathetic one. “I’ve come across one or two restless souls of children before,” he says softly, and Yi Xiang wishes that spiriting away will not earn him more than an earful later. “It catches you off guard, and you’re left with ignoring the child or helping them cross over. So I’ll ask you again…” He gently pulls the Boogeyman in close, eyes searching his unreadable expression. “Did you see the girl home safe?”

It takes him too long to respond, and Yunho begins to shift impatient. The king weighs tugging the truth from Yi Xiang’s lips when he finally speaks, albeit carefully. “I took her flying tonight. She never flew before. I’ve never made a child laugh and clap their hands like that. But she…” Yi Xiang takes a deep breath and throws caution to the wind. “Yes, my king. To a degree, I made her comfortable. Had to summon a local reaper. I do abhor those beings. They’re so kind for people normally armed with scythes, but I requested a friendly one, and he continued her flight when I had to go. Don’t ask me how things went after that. We should have faith in that reaper doing his job.”

“Awww…did she tug at your cold, dead heartstrings?”

“Piss off,” Yi Xiang murmurs, shaking the king’s hand off and stalking towards the doors. But he stops as they swing open, facing away from Yunho. “When you helped your lost souls cross over…did you ever wonder where they went?”

“I was curious as to whether they went somewhere or nowhere at all, though I suppose Nowhere is somewhere.” Yunho thoughtfully taps his chin, hoping his gaze is drilling holes into Yi Xiang’s back. “Children are pure innocence and I feel they must go somewhere warm…peaceful…a final place to call home. I want to believe that your girl had someone waiting on the other side for her.” He then walks up behind the Boogeyman, resting a hand on his shoulder. Yi Xiang does not move. “What about you? Where do you think they go?”

“Somewhere better,” is the only answer he receives. But he still does not try to push Yunho away.

“A little girl got a rise out of the big, bad Boogeyman,” the king muses. He lets his hand drop and instead steps forward to watch his dear friend’s face. “What a night it has been.”

Yi Xiang nods slowly, his stare distant. “Agreed. A little girl made me feel.” He pauses, and a sorrow with old, soft edges seems to emanate from him. “It was awful. I will not let that happen again.”

“Even the worst of us have the capacity to feel, Oogie.” A twinkle enters Yunho’s eyes. “You can deny it all you want, and vehemently so, but you are a sentient being who can love. I don’t have to hear it from you to know you care about me, and the Winter Prince, and the people of this realm. You forget that I have eyes everywhere.” He circles around Yi Xiang, stopping right in front of him. “But I have seen your heart shine, though it’s hard to ignore when you wear it on your sleeve at times. You are so like Changmin, it is why I…” He cuts off suddenly, and Yi Xiang has to fight back a sad smile of his own.

_Oh, my fool of a king, I never deserved your heart and you know it._

“Well, anyway.” Yunho reaches out and straightens Yi Xiang’s shirt, brushing off invisible dust and moves aside so the Boogeyman can finally enter his own home. “It’s nice to be reminded that you have a heart just like the rest of us.”

“Though it is dead and cold, as you pointed out.”

To his great shock, Yunho blatantly lifts his arm and rests his palm on Yi Xiang’s chest, his expression one of deep affection and compassion. “I believe I might have spoken too soon. Care to prove me wrong?”

Yi Xiang looks down at his hand. Once upon another time, the gesture would have lit his nerves and veins on fire, and something wicked might have transpired, but tonight, he merely lays his own hand over it for a split second before letting go. _How far we’ve come. How far_ I’ve _come._ “For the last time, I bid you good night, my king.”

“Boo to you, you know I love wagers.”

“I do…” In a burst of thick shadow, Yi Xiang disappears, and Yunho lets out a sigh, but then his haunting voice full to the brim with laughter emerges from the darkness. “But you have a nasty habit of constantly being right, and you know how much I despise losing.”

Yunho chuckles. “I’m sure you’d have reconsidered if Changmin proposed the bet.”

Another ghostly laugh. “He would be too distracted by my good looks and dark, inviting nature to venture that Oogie Boogie is capable of love.”

“Don’t tempt me. He already dug his heels in about a lovely little rendezvous between us, and I would be too happy to remind him how remarkably hot it would be.” A hollow wind ruffles the moonlight hair of the king before all goes still again. Yunho shakes his head and heads back down the path of the manor, his imagination getting away from him for a moment before the night swallows him.

High above, body curved to fit the bottom of the window, Yi Xiang watches his king depart, deep in thought himself. It takes him a while, but eventually he drifts over to his rarely used desk and withdraws a piece of old parchment and a quill gifted to him long ago. He conjures up a jar of ink, but pauses just as the tip hovers over the opening. _How to word a question loaded with curiosity…_

He then dips the quill and takes to his single sentence letter.

**Did she make it home?**

 

* * *

 

An answer returns quickly the next morning with the daily paper, delivered by a handsome screech owl bearing the symbol of the reapers around his neck. Yi Xiang sips his tea as he unfurls the note and lays it flat. A sentence for a sentence.

**An overjoyed mother sends Maritza’s guardian well wishes.**

Yi Xiang leans back in his chair, cradling his teacup, and smiles to himself as crackling flames consume the letter entirely.


End file.
